Bridge Tails

2006: a reunion was in order. Work had kept us apart.

We met at West Point Lake on the border of Alabama and Georgia. Miles of water invited us to play. JB inquired about renting a house boat. A 200 gallon gas tank and gas at $3.45 made the decision for us. He opted for a pontoon boat with a canopy. We sat on it after sunset watching the full moon play with the water.

Early the next morning we put on our bathing suits and hats, took our lunch, hiked down the steep bank to our dock and eased off. The lake is long, the banks heavily wooded. We took note of specific irregularities to find our way back: a crooked sign, a telephone tower.

JB maneuvered with skill. A cool breeze slipped through my hat cooling the all of me. I dozed. The slow-down, unwind, relax, let-go-of-stress speed worked.

An overhead railroad trestle marked a return landmark. We eased under and noticed it had tails. We'd never seen ropes hanging from anything, and had no idea why they were there.

On down the lake we noticed ropes hanging from an overhead highway bridge. JB spotted a bass boat tied to a tail. He grabbed one and tied up our pontoon to the tune of cars whizzing overhead. The breeze and water twisted us around, but we stayed under the road grateful for whoever thought of hanging tails. In this delicious state of limbo we picnicked on fried chicken, coleslaw and honey biscuits in two times the shade: canopy and bridge.

2013 Red Convertible Travel Series